


Pour Ton Anniversaire

by Leah



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Birthday, Cuddling, First Time Saying "I love you", Fluff, Kisses, M/M, aw, the title may be french but there is literally nothing to do with france in this sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 20:12:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leah/pseuds/Leah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John surprises Sherlock with a trip around London for his thirty-third birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pour Ton Anniversaire

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always welcome! Thanks for reading! 
> 
> xx Leah

“What the he-“ Sherlock grumbles as his mattress rolls underneath him, jarring him from his unusually rare slumber. He opens his eyes slowly, relaxing into the waves once he hears John’s excited giggle. Sherlock throws an arm over his head before asking, “What exactly are you doing, John?”

“What, _now_ you want to sleep?” John asks, clambering further on to the bed and shaking Sherlock’s shoulder. “When do _you_ ever _want_ to sleep?”

“I’ve been working a case, you know that,” Sherlock grumbles, removing his arm to look at John. His blue eyes are sparkling with excitement, and Sherlock can’t help but lift his neck and lightly peck John’s lips with his own. John’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “But what is so important that you’re waking me up?” 

John pinches Sherlock’s arm before sitting up and sliding off the bed. “If you’re going to have an attitude…”

“Please, John? I’m awake!” Sherlock insists, leaping out of the nest of blankets he’d created in his slumber. He loses his balance on his landing, however, and he tumbles back onto the bed. He settles for sitting on the edge, rather than standing all the way up again. 

Sherlock slips his index fingers into the belt loops on John’s jeans, pulling him close and nuzzling his cheek against John’s soft belly. He makes a happy humming noise in the back of his throat when John quickly runs his fingers through Sherlock’s curls. 

“If you really can’t remember-“

“Remember what?” Sherlock interrupts, shifting his head so his chin rests just above the belt buckle on John’s pants. He searches his mind for this somehow forgotten event. _It’s not our anniversary, that’s in two weeks. It’s not Mrs. Hudson’s birthday, that’s in August. It’s not the day of Mother’s required visit, John wouldn’t be excited for that. It’s not-_

Sherlock’s thoughts are cut off by John’s throaty chuckle. “You can stop thinking, I’ll just tell you,” John murmurs, tucking a curl, agitated by sleep, behind Sherlock’s ear. “It’s your birthday!”

“Oh.”

John tugs on Sherlock’s ear, making a pretend grumpy noise. “Aren’t you excited? You’re turning thirty-three today!”

“Can I go back to sleep?” Sherlock asks, grinning at John. John simply shakes his head and pulls Sherlock off the bed, ordering Sherlock to get dressed as he leaves the room to, presumably, put together some sort of torturous social event.

Sherlock emerges a few minutes later, however, to find John sitting on the couch, waiting patiently. After quickly surveying the apartment, Sherlock decides there is no “surprise party” happening in 221B anytime soon, so he joins John on the familiar couch. 

“Well? I’m up. What’re we doing?” Sherlock asks after planting a better kiss on John’s lips. 

“Mycroft asked we visit him at the palace today, so he could give you a present of some sort-“

“Most likely another case to ‘protect the dignity of the state’,” Sherlock grumbles, his brow furrowing in immediate resentment of the British government and all it stands for. 

“I figured you wouldn’t want to do that,” John jumps in, interlocking his fingers with Sherlock’s and rubbing circles against the back of his hand. “So, even though I said we would, we’re going to bail. And embarrass Mycroft. Just like you want to do every day.”

Sherlock grins, happy that, for once, someone understands him, someone cares enough to purposefully design a day solely for his enjoyment. Sherlock doesn’t know what do other than press a soft kiss to John’s fingers, still attached to his own. 

“And I thought we could go on a quick tour of all your favorite places in London,” John continues, his cheeks swiftly turning red at the little displays of affection Sherlock is so capable of. “And grab dinner afterwards, wherever you want, since it’s _your_ birthday.”

“I only have one favorite place in London, though,” Sherlock murmurs, smiling at the confused way John’s eyebrows bunch together. “And it’s here, in 221B, with you. Specifically in _there_ ,” he gestures to the bedroom, “with you.” 

John’s cheeks burn, as he searches for something to say. Instead, he is distracted by the loud buzz of his phone ringing in his pocket. He fishes it out and answers. 

“Well, Mycroft you know how he is sometimes.”

Sherlock raises an eyebrow, and John just winks. 

“No, of course I didn’t tell him.”

 _John has gotten a lot better at lying_ , Sherlock notes with a smirk. He leans over and kisses John’s throat, feeling John’s breath catch as he tries to maintain a normal speaking voice. 

“He’s just woken up. We’ll be a bit late, is all. You know how he is.”

Sherlock raises his eyebrow at the repeated phrase, deciding to take revenge by ghosting his breath over the sensitive skin, until he reaches the spot just behind John’s ear that drives him crazy.

“See you in a couple hours, Mycroft,” John finishes the phone call and finally lets out the sigh that was fighting to be released. However, John doesn’t let Sherlock get away with it for long. He pulls at Sherlock’s curls until he’s sitting up again. 

“And how is it that both you and Mycroft know ‘how I am’, when I have no bloody clue what that’s supposed to mean,” Sherlock teases, leaning into the corner of the couch. 

“You very well know what that means, Sherlock Holmes,” John chuckles, planting his own kiss against Sherlock’s lips. This one lasts longer than their previous kisses of the day, letting them explore the other’s familiar mouth again, relearning every crevice and every ridge, even though they know them by heart. John pulls away, eliciting a whine from Sherlock.

“It’s my _birthday_ ,” Sherlock points out, which wins him a peck on the forehead. 

“And we’ve got sights to see! Put on your shoes!” John cries, trying to get Sherlock excited. 

He may not be excited, but he’s compliant, and promptly shuffles off to find his shoes.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Six calls and four text messages from Mycroft later, John and Sherlock find themselves on a bench alongside the Thames River, watching the water rush past as it slowly melts from steely grey to a faint purple with the setting sun. They spent the day focusing on each other rather than the sights they were supposedly seeing. Sherlock buttons his coat before grasping John’s hand again. 

“Thank you, John,” Sherlock murmurs against John’s shoulder, leaving a kiss there.

“It’s your birthday, Sherlock. Of course I was going to do something fun,” John murmurs again, pressing his own kiss into Sherlock’s collar. 

“I mean for everything you do,” Sherlock corrects him, leaning his head against John’s shoulder. “You’re a fantastically spectacular boyfriend, and I love you.”

John’s eyes open in surprise. Sure, he’s told Sherlock he loves him on more than one occasion, using it any time he leaves the apartment or he falls asleep, but Sherlock has never expressly said it back. There was never a doubt in John’s mind that Sherlock loves him, but the words send shivers up his spine and spread a goofy smile over his cheeks.

Sherlock somehow feels warmer as John returns the sentiment and snuggles closer to John’s leather jacket, trying to fully encompass himself in the pure essence of John.

“Happy birthday, Sherlock,” John murmurs, pressing his cheek against Sherlock’s curls as Sherlock hums happily, completely content for the first time in a long time.


End file.
